


Only Cowards Run

by Endangered_Slug



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Again, Angst, F/M, repeatinglitanies prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 01:50:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2211201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endangered_Slug/pseuds/Endangered_Slug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Repeatinglitanies prompted: Belle laughs when Mr. Gold proposes to her out of the blue, thinking it was a joke. Little does she know that Mr. Gold was dead serious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Cowards Run

It hadn't even occurred to Belle that Mr. Gold was serious when he turned his soulful brown eyes to her, his smile fading from his face like evaporating steam. “Marry me,” he said, not even the trace of flirtation in his voice.  
  
Her only response was the soft laughter bubbling up from her chest for of course he was joking. She shook her head with a smile, looking down at the fries on her plate. She picked one up and nibbled on it, missing the hurt look flit across his face.  
  
The next day when he failed to show up at the library at his usual time, Belle figured he was busy with customers and didn't think more about it other than to miss him occasionally when the morning got slow.  
  
He didn't show up for their standing lunch date and when she called him the phone went straight to voice mail. She left a message and waited all day.  
  
The next day, when she found his library books in the drop box she knew something was wrong. He always, always came in to return books and to chat with her about... anything and everything. He was a wonderful conversationalist and had traveled so much before settling in sleepy little Storybrooke and she loved listening to him. He seemed to enjoy hearing her talk, too, because he never interrupted her with bigger and better stories of his own; like that bone-headed twit Gary did that one time she went out with him.  
  
The entire week passed without a glimpse of Mr. Gold and the knot of worry in her belly grew with each passing day. They had such a lovely time the last time she saw him. They spent the entire day together, laughing and enjoying each other's company. What happened?  
  
She'd caught a few glimpses of him, but either she was busy with work and saw him quickly pass by the library windows or he was in his car, rushing away to who-knows-where.  
  
Rent day came and even though Belle never had to deal with him on those days, she'd heard more than one person complain about him. She usually kept herself neutral but that day people came to the library to use the public computers searching for new housing, new jobs, new towns — any place other than Storybrooke under the thumb of Mr. Gold. Sean Herman enlisted in the Army with his pregnant fiance silently crying by his side.  
  
“I'd rather be shot at than deal with that monster,” he said, when Belle asked him about it. He'd be gone within a week to basic training and the town rallied to give him a hero's send off.  
  
“He's not a monster,” she said, but no one listened to her.  
  
Six weeks after their last lunch, long after she quit leaving messages on his phone and little, concerned notes on his door — she could take a hint, thank you very much — the Cadillac sped down Main Street. It slowed down as it passed her, and she lifted her hand to wave and she thought maybe he would stop, but he looked right at her then stepped on the gas and left town.  
  
It was the first time she'd gotten a good look at him and he looked terrible, she realized. As if he'd gotten little sleep and even less to eat. She missed him, the stubborn man. Missed his face and his presence and his weird sense of humor and the way he made her feel.  
  
What happened? What changed?  
  
Three days later the town nearly exploded with rumors that Mr. Gold was killed in a gang fight in New York. That was plainly ridiculous, but Mr. Gold was still absent from town and his pawn shop locked tight. The knot of worry grew into a panic barely kept at bay. It was malignant and vicious and she started to lose sleep from the excessive, nagging fear that Mr. Gold had left her completely. She hated him then. Hated him for putting her through this without any explanation. It was cruel and inhuman to just stop talking to her without any reason and she began to see the monster in him, the monster she'd always denied existed.  
  
She was sitting at the circulation desk sorting through her to-do list and actively trying not to think of Mr. Gold when her cell phone rang. Idly, she picked it up and looked at the ID — it was his number. That bastard! Now? After all this time he decides to call her? She stared at her phone but didn't answer. She had nothing to say that would be productive. She wanted to yell at him and smack his stupid face until he apologized for throwing her away like trash, but she also wanted to cry and beg to be told what she'd done wrong.  
  
What happened?  
  
She sat on her hands and waited for the phone to stop ringing. If it was important he'd call back.  
  
He never called back. There was no message.  
  
The gang fight rumors died down when no other information was forthcoming. With Mr. Gold still absent, the town breathed a sigh of relief. Ashley had her baby and David Nolan broke up with his wife to date Mary Margaret the schoolteacher, both occasions enough fodder for the gossip mill to be fed for weeks.  
  
Rent day came and went. Mr. Gold never showed.  
  
Then one day soon after, the Cadillac drove down the street again. Everyone who saw it stopped in their tracks to watch it drive by. It was slow and ponderous as if the driver didn't know exactly where to go. People quickly dug out their phones to spread the news that the respite was over —Gold was back.  
  
Belle saw the car drive by and her heart leapt to her throat where it stuck and beat a rapid tattoo: “What happened? What happened? What happened?”  
  
She wanted to scream.  
  
There were patrons in the library but she left anyway, running in her high heels, towards the pawn shop. It had been weeks since she'd been by, the last note she'd left still stuck in the door frame. There was a strange man stepping out of the driver's side. He was tall with a dark mop of hair shot through with a little gray and a worried look permanently etched on his face.  
  
What happened?  
  
Belle skidded to a stop on the passenger side. “Mr. Gold!” she cried out., thumping the flat of her palm against the window.  
  
He was slumped over against the doorframe, a bloodied handkerchief held against his stomach. His eyes were closed but at her voice he opened them, meeting her gaze with a pained effort.  
  
He mouthed one word with a trembling smile.  
  
“Belle.”  
  
She thumped the glass again, then tried the handle, jiggling it in her. Mr. Gold always opened the door for her when they drove places — she forgot about the tiny hitch needed that was peculiar to his car. At last she remembered how it opened and she yanked with all her might, catching him as he tumbled out. She went with him to the ground, cradling him in her lap.  
  
“What happened,” she asked, tears starting to fall down her face.  
  
“Knife wound. He was mugged.”  
  
“What? Why isn't he in the hospital? Who are you?” There were so many answers she needed but at the moment the most pressing need was to hold him in her arms and never let go.  
  
The man wiped a hand down his face in a weary attempt to clear his mind. "Have you ever tried to get that man to do anything he didn't want to do? He kept telling me he had to get home. He had to see someone named Belle.  You know her?"  
  
She sobbed openly, one hand to her throat to keep the scream from bursting out. "I'm Belle. I'm Belle."  
  
She stoked Gold's hair marveling at its softness. She always wanted to do that but'd imagined he would be a willing participant when it happened. His eyes were shut against the pain but he leaned into her touch as she stroked his face. He was slick with perspiration, obviously unwell and bleeding and hurt. Why hadn't he gone to the hospital?  
  
"Mr. Gold," she said.  "Look at me, Mr. Gold."  
  
He opened his eyes and she sobbed again. In the distance the wail of an ambulance siren sounded.  
  
"The ambulance is almost here, Mr. Gold. They'll have you fixed in no time," she said, petting him as if to reassure herself that he was really there.  
  
He shook his head. "No hospitals."  
  
Belle wanted to shake him. "You aren't getting out of it."  
  
"I think it's too late for that." He reached up with a trembling hand and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. They were ice cold and she pressed them to her to warm them up.  
  
"I just wanted to see you again, Belle."  
  
"You have to promise me, Mr. Gold. Promise you won't leave me again."  
  
The stranger crouched down and took hold of his other hand, the bloody one holding the handkerchief.  
  
"What do you want me to do, Papa?" he asked.  
  
"Nothing, Bae. I'm sorry," he said, squeezing his hand tightly. He looked back at her. "Beautiful Belle." His voice was a harsh whisper against the sirens.  
  
"Mr. Gold, _please_ ," she cried, her face awash with tears and dripping snot. There was nothing beautiful here. Nothing but the agony of losing her wonderful friend. "I can't do this—" she pressed his hand into her cheek and quelled another sob.  
  
There was another tremulous smile. She could see blood between his teeth.  
  
 "I've always loved you, Belle. Beautiful Belle with her smiling eyes and kind heart. So smart and lovely. You made an old monster happy."  
  
"You're not a monster," she whispered. "I love you."  
  
His eyes fluttered shut. "Very kind..."  
  
The ambulance had arrived and the paramedics rushed to them with the stretcher at the ready. Mr. Gold was too weak to put up a fuss. Belle tried to hold onto his hand but they wheeled him away faster that she could keep up. The stranger, _Bae_ , had hopped in with them. Mr. Gold was looking at her when they shut the door in her face.  
  
She looked down at herself. There was blood on her hands and all down the front of her skirt where he'd lain. They'd taken him away and left her with his blood. She wiped her hands on her skirt - what did the stains matter at this point - and took a deep, hitching breath.  She would go to the hospital. The man, that stupid, stubborn man, had come all the way up here to see her, she would make damn sure he got a good look. Every single day. She would be there until he screamed.  
  
There was a large crowd surrounding her but they let her pass without effort. They didn't want Gold's blood on them. They didn't want Gold period.  
  
She'd never driven the Cadillac before, but she'd been a passenger enough times to know that you have to press in and turn the key to get it to start - Mr. Gold really should have that fixed. The car started on the second try. She had some doubts as to whether she was fit to drive but it would take too long to walk. She put it into gear and jerked out into the street.  
  
Belle parked in a doctor's assigned spot without care; no one would dare tow his car. The receptionist at the front desk stared at the blood on her skirt but was able to direct her to the right wing once she understood that Belle wasn't there for herself.  
  
She found the stranger, _Bae_ , in the waiting room sitting on a plastic chair with his elbows on his knees. He had his hands pressed together and not knowing if he was praying, she sat down quietly next to him.  
  
"They're prepping him for operation," he said at last. He looked up at her and she could see the resemblance to his father in his eyes. "I'm Bae," he told her.  
  
She took his hand in hers and held it tight. "I'm Belle."


End file.
